


Modern Taste

by bluphacelia



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Art appreciation, M/M, Meet-Cute, Museums
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 16:41:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13057992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluphacelia/pseuds/bluphacelia
Summary: "What do you think it is. That makes this art?" The man asks, startling Lance who is very much looking at him instead of at the painting. Lance quickly darts his eyes back to the canvas, giving it a once over."Good question," Lance says. "It could be the way the paint splatters look like they are droplets of the world drifting down to collect at the bottom to reflect how we as a society tend to only see the final results and not how we get there."---The one where Lance meets a cute boy at an art museum





	Modern Taste

**Author's Note:**

  * For [not_the_Alex_youre_looking_for](https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_the_Alex_youre_looking_for/gifts).



> So this was written as an xmas present for Alex! I hope you enjoy my attempt at some cute Hance.

It is a Monday afternoon and the museum is packed to bursting—school kids running around, parents with toddlers, students taking notes. Lance takes another step in line and then to the counter as he's being hailed forward. He flashes his student card and the lady gives him a sticker to put on.

"Have a good day!" she chirps with a smile. Lance grins, bids her adieu.

It's his first month here, in the big city, and he's determined to use every chance he gets to explore new places. Including art museums. 

He walks into the special art exhibit. There's a big sign stating: "Free for Students" on the wall, with a smaller note beneath: "Only valid first Monday of the month". Lance passes the sign and pushes the doors open. He meanders through the hall and looks at the art. It's a modern exhibit. Huge canvases of splashed paint, collages of images that make up other images, photographs of gritty urban scenes, of people, life, decay.

Lance walks through to the next exhibition hall. There is a burly man standing in front of the first piece of art. It's another one of those paintings with a few drops of paint on a white canvas all swirled around and splattered all over. Lance shifts to stand to look at the painting and gives the man a side-eye. The man has a curious tilt to his head, arms crossed against his chest, very wide chest and wider shoulders. Lance swallows. He can see the distinctive outline of muscle through the dark cotton of the strangers t-shirt.

"What do you think it is. That makes this art?" The man asks, startling Lance who is very much looking at him instead of at the painting. Lance quickly darts his eyes back to the canvas, giving it a once over.

"Good question," Lance says. "It could be the way the paint splatters look like they are droplets of the world drifting down to collect at the bottom to reflect how we as a society tend to only see the final results and not how we get there."

The man gives him disbelieving look. 

Lance holds out his hand, "I'm Lance. Art enthusiast." 

"Hunk. Are you sure it's art you're enthusiastic about?" He accepts Lance's hand and gives it a almost painfully firm squeeze before turning back to the painting.

"Hunk? Really? Did your mother name you that knowing you'd turn into a hunk?" Hunk turns his head a fraction of an inch to look at him, eyebrow quirked in amusement. Lance flushes, cursing at how his tongue always manages to run away from him. "I mean, in a good way. Definitely in a good way!"

Hunk turns around and Lance swallows as he sees his shoulders flex under that sinfully tight shirt. He takes a step back and wonders if he should just book it before realizing that the man is laughing.

Lance sighs in relief and turns back to the painting. "So do you think this has been drawn by an infant? Probably high off some or other drug fumes. As the parents watch, huffed up on paint thinners, hoping to make millions?"

"I'm—that's a Pollock you know. He's famous."

Lance squints at the painting. "I've never heard of him before." He gives a sheepish grin. "I'm in STEM. Didn't really take art history. Well, ever."

"You had no art requirements in school?" Hunk's eyes widen in disbelief.

"Well, we did have to take one liberal arts class. And I took a basic drawing class in summer school so I could take an extra science the following year."

There's another raised eyebrow.

"I did get a twelve out of ten on a writing project about an artist, composer and author!" Lance feels himself straighten up as his chest swells up in pride.

"How is that even possible?" Hunk asks and leads the way down to the next painting.

"I'm not actually sure, but the teacher loved me. My mom made some pastelitos and I brought it on the last day of class. Must have given me some brownie points since he gave me an A in the end."

"If getting a twelve out of ten doesn't deserve an A, I don't know what does."

They stop by another painting. 

"So what do you do? Student?" Hunk asks.

"Yeah, first year! Science, obviously. Just moved here a month ago so everything is still new and shiny," Lance replies, brows scrunched up as he tries to understand why this particular painting is probably worth more than what all the people in the building make in a year.

"I'm in second year. Engineering." 

Lance glances at the other man, his arms are crossed again and he has a sort of pinched look to his face as he looks at what Lance can only describe as a monochrome flat color on top of another monochrome flat color. The whole hallway is filled with them.

"That's neat." Lance looks away. He's suddenly a bit nervous.

"I think photography is next. You coming?" 

Lance blinks and then quickly follows him to the next room. He'd already come this way, but Lance doesn't mind going again. Not for a chance to hang out with a cool sophomore.

"You like photography?" Lance asks as they walk to the other side of the exhibit.

"I've always liked it. I got a DSLR camera for graduation and I've been out taking sky shots at night."

"That's so cool! I love the stars. I'm actually thinking of doing astro-physics, but I don't know if I'm smart enough." Lance looks away, sheepish. He doesn't like to talk about this side of his aspirations. Not yet, not this early in the year.

"I'm sure you'll be great!" Hunk gives him a warm smile. "Just gotta study hard! I have a study group on Tuesdays if you want to join? It's just me and my friends doing homework."

"Really?" Lance gives him a look. "I won't cramp your style as a freshman?"

Hunk bursts out laughing. The sound rings through the hall, bouncing off the marble walls. Someone coughs and one of the exhibition attendees gives them a _look_.

"Sorry," Hunk coughs and gives her a sheepish smile before turning back to Lance. "No, dude. You won't cramp my style I promise. We're all very chill. And if you need any help with your classes I used to tutor, but for some reason I don't think you'll need it."

Hunk's smile is so genuine and kind Lance has to look away.

"Thanks. I'll think about it." 

They turn back to the photo they'd stopped in front of. It's a huge photo of two people kissing—two men kissing. Lance glances at the small plaque and has to bring his hand over his mouth to keep himself from laughing.

He nods to it, trying to catch Hunk's attention. And suddenly the pointed look the lady had given them makes sense. It simply reads "The Cock".

"I wasn't laughing at that," Hunk stage whispers at Lance, glancing back at the lady who is now a good fifteen feet away.

"So, what do you really think of this one?" Lance can't help but ask.

"I like the black and white. It really brings out their feelings. Their love for each other. Makes it look like they don't have a single care in the world. Lucky bastards. Probably not thinking about midterms."

"Probably not." Lance stands close. He feels the brush of warm skin against his own. He smiles. Maybe art isn't so bad.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://bluphacelia.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/blu_tweets). 
> 
> I'd also love prompts if anyone wants to throw me one, my inbox is always open!


End file.
